Organization XIII Goes to Group Therapy
by Chocolate Miyazaki
Summary: What happens when Xemnas forces the orgy to go to group therapy? Will Marluxia stand for it? Can Xigbar deny the pedophilia accusations? And will anyone just leave Axel's hair alone! ...Yeah, I don't know either. Oh the humanity! R&R/No Yaoi/Oneshot


"You are all here today because your... Superior is worried about you," stated the pale woman. She pushed her spectacles farther up upon the bridge of her ever-straight nose, not a single mousy brown strand of hair out of place in her perfect bun. She radiated with an air of order that could only be rivaled by Xehanort's very own Nobody. Xemnas could be heard coughing uncomfortably from the corner, and several pointed glares were sent his way. All of the organization members sat in a big, lofty room; Xemnas, Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Saïx, Axel, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene, and Roxas all in attendance to this "therapeutic session." The woman looked as though she was about to start talking again, but then whispering could be heard, and she snapped her head towards the source of the noise just in time to catch a glimpse of Axel shrugging and Roxas sighing.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting you?" inquired the woman with false tones of sincerity evident in her patronizing voice. Number VIII perked one flaming red eyebrow at her, before retorting, "No, but thank you for caring about our _feelings _enough to ask." Larxene snickered, and catching sight of the woman's confused and offended visage only made her all the more amused. (Wisely) deciding to drop the subject, the woman cleared her throat and straightened the paper on her desk, trying to figure out how to go on with the session.

"Anyway, as I was saying, your superior is quite worried about your current states. According to these reports, there has been a history of betrayal, fighting, and... Pedophilia… in your 'organization'?" She looked quite aghast by this point.

"I didn't do anything!" exclaimed Xigbar, snapping out of his stupor and looking as though he was ready to take flight from any accusation thrown his way.

"Please calm down," she glanced at her papers, "Xigbar. Now, um, I don't know exactly what your organization does... but... um... _pedophilia?" _she cried, exasperated. Demyx giggled, plucking away on his Sitar in between Marluxia and Xigbar, leaning as far away from Larxene as possible.

"Demyx, please put your guitar away," ordered the woman, having memorized all of their names by now. Number IX looked deeply offended, and Marluxia tossed his hair in an aggravated manner.

"It's a SITAR!" exploded Demyx, eyes betraying the hurt he felt. "And I can't -- I gotta keep to the beat!" Just at those words escaped his lips, one of the strings snapped up and hit Zexion in the eye. Number VI dropped his book to the ground and, cupping one ebony-gloved hand over his injured eye, shouted, "BAKA!" with frightening ferocity no one had known existed in him until that moment. However, Demyx's reaction was even more noteworthy. He jumped up out of his seat, a look of true agony no one in the lofty room could fathom etched upon his features.

"YOU KILLED IT! YOU KILLED MY SITAR!" bellowed number IX; he then proceeded to faint. Everyone stared at him for a good two minutes.

O.o...o.O

"Moving on," drawled the woman, "let's begin with how you all feel about this whole situation; any volunteers?" After taking in everyone's hesitation, the woman was about to pick someone and force them to spill their guts, but a hand shot up before she could even open her mouth.

"Yes, I would like to volunteer," piped up a pretty-yet-manly voice, and who could it be but our very own number XI -- Marluxia! He cleared his throat dramatically -- causing a quickly stifled snicker from Larxene -- and began his long and treacherous tale. "This whole organization is always in such disarray, and quite frankly I am sick and tired of people trampling my garden carelessly," he said, casting the still-unconscious Demyx an angry look. "People constantly skip out on their missions," glare at Axel, "creep the younger members of this organization," glare at a dozing Xigbar, "and everyone is just plain weird!" he finished, his eyes sweeping over everyone. "I SHOULD RULE THE ORGANIZATION!" declared dear Marly with gusto, standing up with a sincere fist over his chest where his heart would be, foot propped upon his chair. He appeared as though he was posing for a regal photograph; all he needed was a spotlight and some wind blowing his pink hair in a fierce breeze.

"Well, maybe if you spent less time tending to your girly garden and more time fighting Heartless, you would be powerful enough to do so," offered Axel, leaning back lazily in his chair.

"Well, maybe if YOU spent less time styling your hair and eating ice cream with that one," retorted a very angry Marluxia, pointing towards number XIII, but before he could finish, Axel took on an appalled visage.

"THIS HAIR IS NATURAL, GOT IT MEMORIZED?" he yelled, straightening up in his chair as quick as Xigbar's Arrowguns could shoot. "YOU WANNA GO?!" Fire billowing down his arms, the one and only red haired Nobody summoned his Chakrams in one graceful gesticulation.

"Please, everyone, _stop!" _cried the psychiatrist desperately. However, right at that moment, Marluxia decided to summon his Scythe, a flourish of pink petals surrounding him rather dramatically. Backing up Axel, Roxas jumped up, and, summoning Oathkeeper and Oblivion, making the trademark X with said weapons; his battle stance. As if on cue, every single member of the organization summoned their own weapons and yelled insults at each other.

"Who are you calling weak?!"

"You all should be bowing down to me!"

"Yeah, well you're fat!"

"MY HAIR IS MAGICAL, DAMMIT!"

"Aaaah! Stop it! Pull it out!"

"That's what she said!"

"NO! I DON'T _WANT_ TO GET IT F**KING MEMORIZED!"

"Shut up!"

"NOBODY LOVES ME!"

"Do you want to mess?!"

"All I ever wanted was a plushie of myself! Why, cruel world?!"

"I AM NOT FAT! YOU'D BETTER TAKE THAT BACK!"

"Oh, poor you. If I had a heart, it'd be positively _bleeding _for you."

"I want some sea salt ice cream..."

"As if!"

"YOUR MOTHER, BITCH!"

"Would you share the Paopu fruit with me?"

"So many toddlers, so little time..."

"I HATE YOU ALL!"

"Let's elope!"

"SHUT UP! I'M TRYING TO READ!"

"SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Silence indeed ensued, as every head turned slowly towards the source of the outburst: It was Saïx, glowing, in all his glory, looking very much as though he was about to enter Berserk mode; or, in other words, open up a can of whoop-ass. Xemnas was nowhere in sight, as he had given up at the mention of magical hair and portal-ed to his office in the Castle That Never Was, nursing a massive headache.

The room was silence for 10 extremely lengthy seconds, until the psychiatrist, her hair disheveled and her glasses on crooked from being caught up in the midst of this scene, let out a loud

"!!!!! YOU'RE ALL HOPELESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" before dashing out of the room in tears.

Hearken, dear children, for now I shall reveal to thee the moral behind this effed up story: _Never, ever, let Organization XIII go to group therapy._


End file.
